


Checkmate

by randompandemic



Series: Cullen & Róisín [10]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompandemic/pseuds/randompandemic





	Checkmate

The rain had passed and left Skyhold with a lovely, sunny day. People were leaving their rooms, tending to the gardens or just enjoying the sun, children were playing, there was a generally pleasant buzz about the castle.

They sat outside his office, overlooking the gardens, a large tree protecting them from direct sunlight. The chess table was rather secluded. They could not be seen from any place in the castle other than his office and the western fortification and that allowed for a certain level of privacy the Inquisitor normally did not have. Cullen guessed that was the reason why she liked to come up here. It was certainly not because she enjoyed playing chess, because if she did, she would probably be better at it by now. But for all her other qualities, Róisín Trevelyan was a disastrously bad chess player.

She had come up here with wine and cheese and they had been playing for a good hour now. He took all the time he needed to make his moves, because he wanted to give her time to plan hers, to learn how to predict what he would do. And he tried to be so very predictable. But despite it all. She was well on her way to losing. Again.

“You told me about your sister and brother the other day,” she began. He suspected her utter lack of talent for chess stemmed from how easily she could be distracted (or distract herself) from it.

“I did.”

“But you never told me what they do for a living.”

“My sister works as a treasurer for the Bank of Ferelden. My brother is a soldier,” he explained, still contemplating his next move.

“In Ferelden?”

“In Ferelden, yes. King Alistairs army.”

“Tell me if you don’t want to chat. I just thought I’d break the awkward silence.”

“Why would I not want to chat?” he asked, still focused on the board before him.

“I don’t know. Maybe because you haven’t looked at me once since I got here? For all you know, I could be naked.”

Cullen fell for it. Looked right up at her. She was not naked, but she did look beautiful in the softly moving shadows of the leafs. Ros was wearing a summer dress, light blue, airy fabric wrapped loosely around her form, held around her waist with a golden sash. The fabric cascaded over her shoulders, parted slightly in the front, just enough to reveal that she was not, in fact, wearing a breast band. She wore no jewellery and her hair was slightly tousled, inviting to run his fingers through. But no breast band. His mind kept shooting back to that and he realised that was exactly what she had planned. What she lacked in her understanding of chess, she more than made up for in her wit and Maker, she knew how to pull his strings. Cullen found a smirk on her pink lips. “If only your chess moves were as easily predictable as you are, my dear Commander.”

“They are. _You_ are simply not paying attention, Inquisitor.”

“In my defence, it is pretty hard to pay attention to a game when I can look at you instead.”

He watched her slip out of her shoes and cross her legs, it made her dress part slightly, revealing her knees. The sunlight falling through the leafs above them shimmered on her skin. It should not be as distracting as it was, but Maker he could not pull his gaze away. With a sigh, he focused back on the board and made his move. He left his position wide open, all she needed to do was move in, he practically handed her the victory. She did not take it.

“Is everyone in your family as devout as you are?”

“No. Just me… how about you? Any siblings?”

“Two brothers. Both older. Rheon and Reddard,” she confirmed with a nod.

“Devout?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, very. The Trevelyan’s are a very devout Andrastian family. Had I not been born a mage, I would have no doubt had a career in the Chantry. Rheon is a Templar, too. That’s how I know how to manipulate Templars,” she said with a playful wink. He laughed and nodded at the board.

“Your move.”

“Oh, I know. I’m planning.”

He looked up to find her – yet again – not interested in the board, but looking right at him. He raised a brow.

“Trevelyan.”

“I’m _planning_!”

“You haven’t even looked at the board, have you?”

“I said I’m planning. I didn’t say I was planning _chess_ ,” she said and slid forward in her chair just enough that her bare foot could brush up between his legs. He laughed, leaned forward to gently catch her ankle. His fingertips slowly stroked over the sole of her foot, making her toes curl and a soft giggle escape her lips.

“Then what _are_ you planning?” he asked, looked up to meet her gaze. She had a firm hold of one armrest, the fingertips of her other hand sensually brushed over her own lips.

“I am sure we can think of something.”

“Hm…”

“Would it help to tell you that I am not wearing _any_ undergarments?” she asked, her foot brushed over his inner thigh causing a soft shudder to jolt through his body.

“Certainly,” he admitted. Damned be the game, it was not like either of them had really focused on it today. He reached forward and with one swipe cleared the board, before he pulled the Inquisitor towards him by her ankle. A soft shriek escaped her as she bounced from her chair onto the edge of the chessboard and onto his lap, her knees on either side of him. He smirked up at her and brought his lips to the nape of her neck, nibbling her sweet skin and his hands were all over her. She moaned sweetly.

He liked the feeling of her body under that light fabric, and the way she rolled her hips against his, knowing that truly all that was between them, all that kept him from being inside her, was his own clothes. She seemed intent on changing that, her hands swiftly opened his belt and parted the fabric of his trousers. She reached between them, pulled him free to let her slickened folds slide up and down his length. Moans escaped the both of them and he had to pause for a moment, before he continued his kisses along her collarbone and the border of her dress, down between her breasts. He did not part the fabric, but he could feel her hard peaks through it, felt her tremble to the sensation.

He looked up from his kisses, at the play of light and shadows behind her, shimmering through her hair, the sun eclipsed by the curve of her shoulder. He kissed her chin, along her jaw up to her earlobe, the corner of her lips, and then claimed a kiss of her. He felt her smile against his lips.

“What?” he asked.

“You knocked over the board. Does that mean I win?” she asked teasing.

“Hmm… not if I conquer you, my Queen.”

“I may be bad at chess, but isn’t the one who takes the _King_ the winner? And you, my King, seem to have no way of escape,” she whispered, nibbling at his lower lip with a fire in her eyes that burned the oxygen up around them. He wrapped his arm around her and in one unexpectedly confident move, he thrust into her, hilted himself in her. She cried out and leaned forward, her forehead against his.

“Oh Maker, Cullen…” she moaned, her breath hot and sweet and her hands grabbing hold of his shirt in trembling fists.

“Hmmm…” he purred in approval, and with his hands on her hips made her move. She met his slow, deep thrusts. They both had their eyes closed, feeling each other. He tasted her breath on his lips, could hear her moans as he filled her, and he had her surround him, slick and hot. They moved together, slow and languid, lips locked in deep kisses and he ran his hand through her hair. He pulled her close, flush against him, moans muffled by burning kisses so they would draw no attention. It did not take them long. He felt her gasp, her arms wrapped around him tightly, grabbing the fabric of his shirt, and her walls clenched around him beautifully tight. He was a close second, pulling her lips to his again as a growl of pleasure rolled over his lips when he came undone.

She sat on his lap after they had both found their release, he caressed her hair and she peppered kisses over his mouth, his chin, his jaw, her breath shaking ever so slightly, but her lips in a soft, sweet smile. No matter how much he enjoyed the game, he was eternally grateful that their relationship was not one. That he actually had found the one person in Thedas he could be one with so completely, one he could trust so entirely, one he understood so deeply. In fact, he understood her, _knew_ her, so well it did not surprise him at all when she leaned closer now, nibbled his earlobe gently and whispered:

“Checkmate.”


End file.
